


Honeymoon

by ysse_writes



Category: Fire's Stone - Tanya Huff
Genre: M/M
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2011-09-07
Updated: 2011-09-07
Packaged: 2017-10-23 12:28:46
Rating: Teen And Up Audiences
Warnings: Creator Chose Not To Use Archive Warnings
Chapters: 1
Words: 3,009
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/250307
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/ysse_writes/pseuds/ysse_writes
Summary: <blockquote class="userstuff">
              <p>After the book.</p>
            </blockquote>





	Honeymoon

**Author's Note:**

> Disclaimer: The characters and situations of THE FIRE’S STONE belong to Tanya Huff and her publishers. They have been used without permissions, with no mean intent and no desire for remuneration.
> 
> Also, this story is for Cressy, on her birthday, 2004.

 

Aaron was almost humming as made his way back to Darvish's quarters. Not actually humming, he was too disciplined, too reserved, for that. It was bad enough that his feet --thieves' feet that could cross a desert and not disturb a grain of sand -- had this unfamiliar rhythm tonight, a lightness of a different kind. He stopped, raised one foot forward and studied it curiously. Perhaps it was the shoes, he thought. Calf leather, soft as butter, and  ** _Look, the design, is it not the most precious thing?_**  the dresser had proclaimed. It wouldn't have lasted a day's walk, Aaron thought. Silly fashionable thing. Darvish was going to turn him into a court fop if he wasn't careful.

Aaron flushed at the memory of the older man. Darvish could probably turn him into anything he damn well pleased, he grumbled, mentally. After all, he'd exhibited undeniable fortitude and resistance so far, hadn't he? Not only had he let Darvish capture him during what should have been an easy enough burglary, he'd let the older man drag him across the sea and through two kingdoms to retrieve the stolen Fire's Stone. He'd let them be soul-linked and bonded and...

His flush deepened.

And he'd let Darvish touch him, a man, when Aaron used to think he'd slit his own throat before letting such a thing happen.

Yes, Darvish had changed him already, he thought, turned him into something Faharrah wouldn't even have recognized.

It was too late now, he realized, to worry about what other plans Darvish may have for him. He already knew any resistance he'd offer up would be but token.

Damn the man.

It was strange. Not even with Ruth, the cousin he'd fallen in love as a youth, the girl he'd given up his home for, did he feel this strange restlessness.  _He told me he loved me._  He blushed again, remembering the weakness of his voice as he'd whispered those words to Faharrah, to the urn that carried her ashes. It wasn't that he disbelieved them, it was just that he was afraid to say them out too loud. Afraid someone would disavow them, challenge them. It was still too frail, this... Yes, call it for what it was. This happiness.

He stopped, frowning to himself. No, not frail, he corrected. Not frail at all. For the first time since he'd left his father's land he was unafraid, this strange connection with Darvish strong enough to push down the fear. Perhaps, Aaron thought, he'd whispered them because they were so very precious. Because if he'd spoken them louder he'd have wept.

He seemed to do that a lot these days, he thought, ruefully. So much for being his Father's son, the Clan Heir. He shrugged, continuing on. He'd left that world behind long ago. There was place in this new life for a few tears. By now Darvish had ample experience in drying them. Sometimes, Chandra, the silly chit, would even join in and add a few of her own.

"If getting married to this lout isn't worth a few bouts of hysteria," she'd sniffed, disdainfully, "I don't know what is." An affectation horribly ruined when she'd predictably throw her arms around him and hug him tightly, while Darvish would look on, both amused and exasperated. He'd only tolerate it a few moments, however, before gently prying Chandra's arms away and replacing them with his own.

He was getting used to that, too, to Darvish's arms around him, the constant touching... He had, after all, spent the last Nineday in Darvish's bed. "Healer's orders," the Prince of Ischia had proclaimed, waggling his eyebrows. They'd begun on opposite sides of the lavish bed, but had somehow, through the nights, gravitated towards each other. This morning he'd wakened with Darvish draped over him like a blanket. It was a miracle he hadn't been smothered in his sleep.

He could almost hear Faharrah's dry laughter running through his head.  ** _Struggle all you want, my pet, but it seems to me that you just ought to sit back and enjoy it._**

 _Oh, and Darvish would love that, wouldn't he? As if everyone in the kingdom didn't already fall all over themselves catering to his every whim._

 _  
**Like I said, pet, struggle all you want.**   
_

_Oh, just be quiet, will you?_

The laughter came again, but it could have simply have drifted from the lower halls, where the celebration for the wedding was still in full swing.

It was hard, allowing himself to be happy like this. Inside himself he could still feel the fear. He was still afraid. For Darvish, mostly. Walls he'd spent a lifetime building up, boundaries set in stone – they weren't so easily scaled. Even the rubble they'd been reduced to, courtesy of Darvish and Chandra crashing into his life, was still massive.

It wasn't so easy.

He smiled again.

Becoming easier, though.

Chandra would help. She loved Darvish, too, and she wasn't only his wife, she was a wizard of the Nine. Surely, if anyone in the world could, she could keep Darvish safe. Surely, between them, they could give Darvish what he needed.

He reached Darvish's --  _their_  -- quarters without incident, entering and moving easily through the dark outer rooms. Most of the servants had been given leave to join the celebration and he had sent Fadi off to bed hours ago. Darvish was still with Chandra, for the traditional bedding.

If the three of them had been ordinary people, Aaron thought, perhaps the knowledge would have brought with it a pang of jealousy, of suspicion. Instead it only brought with it a twinge of wistfulness, but he blamed that on this strange mood that had been ruling him all night. He was resolved not to dwell too much on the details of this bizarre relationship the three of them had. Suffice to know that the ties that bound them were beyond the pale and traditional rules were useless, even laughable.

"There you are."

Aaron stopped, startled from his musing by the voice, and the shadow that separated from the deeper shadows by the bed. A match struck, lighting the lamp by the bedside, throwing the area into sharp focus.

"I'd been wondering whether I ought to call out the guards to find you."

Aaron blinked. "Darvish? What are you doing here?"

Darvish's answering smile was lazy as he lit yet another lamp. "These  _are_  still my quarters, Aaron," he replied. "At least until we move to Chandra's palace."

"No, I meant..." Aaron became even more flustered. "Chandra... The wedding..."

"Was beautiful," Darvish replied, with mock solemnity. "You should have been there. Oh, wait, that's right, you were. It was  _after_  the wedding that you suddenly went invisible."

"I thought my presence was unnecessary," Aaron shrugged, "and that I would not be missed."

"Oh?" asked Darvish. "And why would you think that?"

"Well, it  _is_  your wedding night," he pointed out.

"Yes," agreed Darvish, readily. "It is."

"And you have, errr, engagements, responsibilities." Aaron bit his lip, trying to control his nervousness.

"I do?"

Aaron began enumerating Darvish's 'engagements.' "The celebration," he said. "Meeting the dignitaries. The..." Aaron's voice dropped in embarrassment. "The bedding..."

Darvish's lazy smile slowly widened into an amused and loaded smirk. "Ah, yes," he almost purred. "The bedding..."

Aaron took an unconscious step back as Darvish started towards him, the slow measured stride setting off mental alarms. It wasn't fear, exactly, but it had been a while since he'd seen the prince so... intent.

He knew that Darvish was capable of it, of course. Knew that the prince could be utterly purposeful and single-minded when he chose. Knew as well that Darvish was accomplished in seduction. He had, in fact, been witness to the phenomenon all over two continents. He'd just never been the focus of both before.

In the days after they'd restored the Fire's Stone, Darvish had constantly by his side but had never been more than gently affectionate. He had been considerate and solicitous, but no more than he was to Chandra, or even Fadi. The flirting had been light-hearted, more teasing than suggestive.

This was different; the look in Darvish's eyes, the air of purpose, of expectation. It was disconcerting, unsettling. Aaron could actually feel a strange sort of panic rise in his breast as Darvish continued to move closer, and began to casually disrobe.

"What are you doing?" he demanded, taking another step back, cursing his voice for betraying him with its nervous squeak.

Darvish's grin never wavered. "Getting ready for bed," he answered, evenly.

Aaron tried to wave him over to the direction of the massive bed. "The bed's over there."

"Yes," agreed Darvish, "but  _you're_  over here." He casually threw his discarded shirt aside, his eyes never leaving Aaron's. "And I can't very well perform the ritual bedding if I go alone, can I?"

Aaron actually felt his face flame red. Redder. "Me? But what... What about Chandra? Shouldn't you--?" Aaron tried to control his wildly beating heart as Darvish managed to remove his shoes. "Wouldn't she have something to say about her husband spending her wedding night with another man?"

"And why would she?" Darvish said. "She may be married to me but her heart belongs to magic. You know that as well as I do."

"That does not mean she can not appreciate your charms," Aaron pointed out. "Or your... skill... in such matters."

Darvish inclined his head, curiously. "By the Nine, Aaron, you're not jealous? I thought you understood. I love  _you_. This marriage--"

"Is still a marriage," Aaron finished, perhaps sharper than he'd intended. "Chandra is your  _wife_."

"And you are my  _love_." Darvish sighed, exasperatedly. "You are the one I chose to spend this night with. Fighting or loving, your choice."

Aaron unwittingly took yet another step back, his eyes unconsciously seeking a means of escape. "Have you been drinking?" he demanded. He regretted the question as soon as he voiced it, knew he was snapping out of fear, a trapped animal attacking indiscriminately.

Darvish's eyes flashed, and for a moment Aaron was afraid he'd pushed too far. Then the larger man sighed, his smile turning rueful. He turned and walked to the bed, flung himself down on its soft mattress, and began to rub the bridge of his nose tiredly. Aaron felt immediately remorseful, following after him, sitting gingerly beside the prince.

"I'm sorry..." he began, trying to apologize, but was interrupted by Darvish's quiet voice.

"Aaron," said Darvish, gently, "I've been sleeping beside you on this bed for the last Nineday. If anything could have driven me back to drinking, trust me, that would have been it." He turned his head towards Aaron, then raised a hand, catching a lock of Aaron's hair and following the length of it down with his fingers. "Do you know what you look like, Aaron, when you're asleep?" he asked, his voice low and husky "Do you know how you feel in my arms? Nine nights, Aaron, while you snuggled and clung to me, whispering my name in your sleep."

Aaron swallowed. "But..." That couldn't be true, he thought. Darvish had never even... "You..."

"Did you think it did nothing to me, Aaron?" Darvish continued, his voice almost dreamy, hypnotic. "Did you think I was so strong? Sometimes I thought the mere smell of you would drive me mad."

Aaron shook his head, though he was uncertain of what it was he was denying. "But you..." he said again, his voice a mere whisper. "You've never even..."

"Never even what, Aaron?" Darvish prompted softly.

Aaron almost wished the earth would open up and swallow him. It was bad enough to think about it, to dream about it, but to admit to it? To speak such indecent heathenish words aloud?

He heard again the dry chuckle in his mind, felt Faharrah's amusement.  _ **Embarrassment becomes you, my pet. Brings color to your cheeks and a sparkle to your eyes. I wager the prince thinks passion will do a better job.**_

It was the challenge in her voice that did it.  _By the One, I will not be laughed at by a dead woman!_  He lifted his chin and looked Darvish straight in the eye. "You've never even kissed me," he said.

Darvish blinked, the dreamy look in his eyes being momentarily replaced by stunned amazement. Then a roguish smile broke through once more. "Why, Aaron," he said, his eyes twinkling merrily even in the dim light. "Did you want me to kiss you?"

His voice was as smooth as silk, as warm as sunlight, but it made Aaron shiver anyway. His chin lifted a notch higher. "Yes, I did," he answered, almost defiantly. "I do."

Darvish's smile softened, becoming tinged with pride and tenderness, even as his eyes turned a deeper sapphire. He reached out, and Aaron forced himself not to flinch or scuttle out of reach.

Which was, of course, a mistake, since Darvish was, after all, a warrior, and could move strategically if he needed to. Before he had time to change his mind or sound a protest Aaron found himself prostate, pressed to the mattress by Darvish's substantial girth, with his hands pinned to either side of his head. He decided it would be unseemly to struggle, and contented himself with glaring up at his captor.

Darvish continued to stare down at him. Then he brought his head down, touching his forehead to Aaron's. "Ah, my lion," he murmured, softly. Aaron shivered as Darvish's breath touched his skin. "So fierce and brave." He stayed like that, unmoving until Aaron almost thought he was asleep. Finally, he moved, rolling on his back and taking Aaron with him. Aaron still refused to struggle, though he didn't find his new position any more comfortable – lying on top of Darvish, his head nestled in the crook of Darvish's shoulder, with Darvish's arms wrapped tightly around him. He held himself stiffly, his heart pounding nervously, waiting for Darvish's next move. "I just wanted to be with you tonight," Darvish whispered, softly, into his hair. "I didn't... I don't want you to do anything you don't want to. I just wanted to be with you."

Aaron slumped into Darvish, the fight leaving him, to be replaced by unfamiliar tenderness. "Dar..." He was starting to feel weepy again, for some reason. What was it about the Prince of Ischia that wreaked such havoc with his emotions? That made him feel so afraid, and yet braver than he ever thought he could be? That made him  _yearn_  so?

"You don't have to force yourself to do anything," Darvish continued, quietly. Aaron could feel Dar's hand on his hair, stroking the length of it, down to his back. "I know you don't know how it is, what happens between men. And I know you need time--"

Aaron lifted his head and kissed Darvish full on the mouth, stilling his words.

Somewhere, in the recesses of his mind, Aaron could almost swear someone was cackling and clapping her wrinkled hands.

Darvish was a warrior, his reflexes impeccable. If Aaron had taken him by surprise he didn't show it. He accepted the kiss then returned it, a hundredfold, with heat and passion and desire, taking control so smoothly Aaron was hardly aware of it. In fact, he wasn't aware of anything else until he realized that his shoes were gone and his shirt was halfway unbuttoned. He broke free then, and wondered that he could still blush, considering how heated his skin was already from Darvish's touch and kisses.

Darvish groaned but allowed him to pull away. Then he was grinning. "Wow."

Aaron couldn't help a shy smile in return, then a small giggle. He knew how to kiss, of course, he and Ruth had exchanged many stolen kisses with each other. But kissing Darvish was a whole new experience entirely.

The truth was he had been dreading it as much as he'd been dreaming of it. He loved Darvish completely, he was certain that there was no place he would rather spend the rest of his life than with the Ischian Prince, but there was no denying that he had found the idea of being with a man terrifying. Aaron hadn't really known if that aspect of their relationship would ever flourish, if he would ever have the courage, could ever let go of his fears enough to give himself, to find joy in the act of giving himself to Darvish.

Now he knew that that wouldn't be a problem at all.

Darvish sighed mournfully. "We should get some sleep," he said. "Unfortunately, letting the groom sleep in the day after his wedding isn't one of the traditions observed in my father's kingdom. My brother wishes to see me in the morning to discuss some item of 'utmost importance to the kingdom.'" Darvish's tone was sarcastic but Aaron could hear the fondness for his brother there as well.

Aaron nodded. He finished taking off his shirt then moved back into Darvish's arms. It seemed silly continue starting on opposite ends of the bed anymore, when he knew this was where he'd end up anyway. "When we get to Chandra's kingdom," he murmured, "you can make your own traditions. And I warrant Chandra 's going to make more than a few changes herself."

"Hmmm," agreed Darvish, sleepily. He dropped another kiss on top of Aaron's head, then snuggled closely, his breathing becoming more regular.

Aaron waited till Darvish was almost asleep. Then he whispered softly in Darvish's ear. "You're wrong, you know."

"Hmm?"

"I do know what happens between men."

Darvish's eyes sprang open with an almost audible click. "What?" he demanded, shaking Aaron, who was pretending to be asleep. "And just how the  _hell_  would you know that? Explain yourself  _this_  instant!"

So much for the Prince not being prone to jealousy and suspicion, thought Aaron, with satisfaction.

Aaron laughed. "You forget," he replied, smiling smugly up at his beloved. "I happen to be a  _very_  good thief."

 

 

© JCSA 2004


End file.
